


Let's Hurt Tonight

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: In a world where soulmates can remember the past lives they lived together, Madara cannot get passed the fact that his own soulmate was the one to kill his brother in their last life. When Tobirama leaves town without explanation he thinks "good riddance" and tries hard to put the man entirely from his mind. Now it's five years later in another town and Tobirama is on stage singing - and Madara's world is turning upside down.





	Let's Hurt Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first place winner of my 800 Followers Giveaway on tumblr.  
> Song used is Let's Hurt Tonight by One Republic.

It took only until Madara looked at his alarm clock for him to realize that it wasn’t his day today. With twenty minutes to get to the class that was held a half hour walk from his dorm, Madara threw himself out of the bed and hollered at his roommate for shutting his alarm off on him again. The shapeless lump in the bed across the room rolled over and said nothing as he stumbled in to the closest pair of shoes, grabbed an apple and his knapsack, and hauled ass down three flights of stairs.

The professor gave him an irritated look over the top of his glasses as Madara slid in fifteen minutes after lecture had started and he knew he could kiss that extension he’d been wanting to ask for goodbye. Having missed the first portion of the class, it took him a while to figure out what the hell today’s topic was and how it related to last week. After that he had to find someone willing to let him borrow their notes on the introduction because the professor sure wasn’t about to catch him up.

From there the rest of his day slid steadily downhill. During his next class his pen stopped working and he hadn’t brought another. At lunch the cafeteria was out of all his favorite foods, leaving him to choke down a disgusting egg salad sandwich he didn’t even like. Between lunch and his last class someone knocked in to him and sent him flying in to someone else’s face, for which he only barely escaped getting beat up.

While trudging back to his dorms late afternoon, Madara wondered sullenly if his day could get any worse. Since he asked, of course, the universe answered. Still with twenty minutes of his walk left a car flew passed him and struck a puddle, sending up a sheet of dirty water that caught him right in the face and drenched his entire front.

Ignoring the car as it screeched to a halt a dozen feet ahead of him, Madara wiped at his face and filled the air with poisonous words. After four days the rain finally stops and now he gets splashed by a driver? Just his luck today.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry! Can I give you a ride somewhere? I feel so bad; I didn’t even see the puddle! Honest!”

Madara’s head snapped up in astonishment as he recognized that voice.

“Hashirama!?” he exclaimed. The man in front of him blinked owlish brown eyes.

“Madara!” The apologetic look slid away to be replaced with a blinding grin and suddenly Madara found himself engulfed in two thick arms having the stuffing hugged right out of him. He squirmed and shouted protests until the other man set him back down on his own feet, still beaming. “What are you doing here?”

“Going home,” he grunted.

“But I said I was coming to pick you up, didn’t you get my text?”

“No. I didn’t have time to grab my phone since I woke up late. What do you want?”

His friend pouted. “Don’t be so grumpy! Listen, I know you’ve been stressed out lately because of your classes so I wanted to do something to help you relax a bit. There’s a concert in Red Valley this weekend, what do you say we go? It’s only an hour away!”

“No, I’m good.” After four years of university courses, Madara’s bank account was little more than dust and dreams. If he was lucky some months his parents might remember to send him some pity money but for the most part he lived on a part time job that didn’t give him nearly enough hours.

“Pleeeaaaaase?” Hashirama clasped his hands together. “I already bought the tickets!”

Sighing, Madara bunched his shirt together to wring out some of the water. If the other man had already bought the tickets he had less reason not to go. Truthfully he felt a little bad for how little time he had spent with his best friend since they both left high school, ironic considering that was the year when he had finally felt free to hang around with Hashirama without a certain someone hanging about and constantly ruining his day.

“Fine,” he capitulated.

“Woohoo!” Hashirama childishly pumped both fists in to the air. “This is gonna be so awesome! I’ve even got a place for us to stay up there so we don’t have to pay for hotel rooms. Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have the guest room!”

“Sure. Whatever. Can you take me home now so I can at least put on some dry clothing?”

Hashirama scrambled back to his car right away, Madara following after at a more human pace. He felt no guilt for the squelching of his sopping wet form on the fine leather of Hashirama’s car; it was hardly his fault he was wet after all. Watching his friend wince every time he shifted and ground more water in to the leather was just enough to take another edge off of his bad mood.

Walking back in to his dorm room, Madara discovered that his roommate still hadn’t moved a single inch. He gave some serious thought to calling the paramedics before tossing the idea out the window. Poor sod had pulled two all-nighters in a row. Come to think of it, that might have been why he turned off the alarm before Madara could wake up. That didn’t make it any less of a dick move but at least it explained the behavior. Madara deigned not to roll him out of bed in retribution as he tossed things about the room, packing an away bag for a weekend trip.

On the way out he popped his head in to the dorm next door and asked them to check in on his roommate by sometime tomorrow, just to make sure he wasn’t actually dead, then he trotted back down three flights of stairs. Hashirama having cleaned off the muddy water from the passenger side while he was packing his things, Madara was able to slide right in and toss his bag in to the back.

“Get me out of here,” he demanded.

“Road trip!”

As he usually did when they were going anywhere father than a couple of blocks together, Hashirama went straight for the radio. Loud rock music assaulted his ears but Madara only hunched down and settled in to do his best to tune it out. He had enough practice tuning Hashirama himself out so the music wasn’t all that big a deal.

Barely twenty minutes later it seemed his friend got bored of singing terribly along with the radio and turned it down so that they could chat instead. It had only been a week or so since they last saw each other but it had probably been more than five months since Madara had more than a few hours to spare between classes. Now that his midterms had passed he felt a little easier taking a bit of time to himself. After this it would be nothing but nose to the grindstone from here on out as he worked on all his final projects.

Halfway to Red Valley he tuned back in just in time to listen to Hashirama going on about some kind of dinner date with his girlfriend which, if he was hearing right, did not go spectacularly well.

“And how did the harpy take it?” he asked. It was a generic enough question that if he’d heard wrong it would still apply. Hashirama tutted at him.

“You know I don’t like it when you call her that!” The pout only lasted a moment before it disappeared with a shrug. “Anyway, Mito didn’t mind so much. She even helped the waiter clean it off my head.”

“I’ll bet you made a pretty sight,” Madara snickered, now regretting not listening to whatever had been spilled over his friend’s head in the middle of a date.

“Funny, that’s just what Tobirama said. He asked if Mito took any pictures and I said–”

Madara froze. “I don’t want to hear about your fucking brother,” he snapped.

“Huh? But–”

“No. Nothing. I just got out of my bad mood so shut up and don’t ruin it by mentioning that waste of space.”

“Uhm…it’s just…you do know that we’re–”

“I said shut up about him!”

“Okay, okay! Hm. Did I tell you I was thinking of getting a dog?”

Madara let his shoulders relax again as his friend awkwardly changed the subject.

Perhaps Hashirama didn’t really deserve to be snapped at like that; it wasn’t as though Madara had ever explained to him why he hated the man’s brother, after all. And something told him that Tobirama had never mentioned their connection either. He was probably too embarrassed by his own actions to own up to them, the little shit.

For most people, finding their soulmate was supposed to be a joyous reunion, a reconnection of two halves of one whole. It was a moment to reminisce about the past lives they had lived together and the love they had shared. For Madara it was something different. Meeting Tobirama in this life was a cold reminder that it had been him who killed Madara’s brother in the last, him who ruined Madara’s life and sent him twisting downward in to a spiral of hatred and insanity. If there was one person he hated in this world it was Senju Tobirama, his own soulmate.

During their childhood he had done his best to ignore the younger man, easily done when Hashirama agreed to hang out at his place or whatever park their other friends would meet them at. Whenever they spent time in the Senju home, however, Tobirama was always there, hovering with his watchful red eyes. Madara often spent more time glaring at him or telling him to do the world a favor and drop dead rather than actually hanging out with his friend.

Tensions had only risen when he entered his junior year in high school and Tobirama, the useless genius that he was, got bumped up a couple of grades to enter the same classes as his brother. Which, of course, also put him in the same classes as Madara. Keeping his precious Izuna in mind, Madara made no secret from the younger boy how much he hated him and that they would never bond the way other soulmates did – not in this life or any other from now until the end of time.

He would never forgive the man who killed his brother without so much as batting an eye. Tobirama had shown not a shred of guilt in their previous life and his face was as empty and cold in this one. Obviously he hadn’t changed a bit. Madara had no intention of binding himself to someone who didn’t understand what it meant to love, who thought nothing of tearing families apart the way he had.

As one might expect, things got better as soon as they all graduated high school. What no one expected, however, was the real reason why. Tobirama gave no explanation for his decision that Madara had ever heard of but he certainly didn’t cry when the younger suddenly moved away to go live with his cousin in another city. Madara had no idea what city he was in or what he was doing with his life but it had been five years now since they had seen each other and he couldn’t be happier about that. Good riddance to a terrible person, in his opinion. The farther Tobirama was from his little brother, the easier Madara rested at night.

Relaxing again now that Hashirama had started talking about something else, Madara let his unwanted soulmate slip from his mind in favor of other things. He let himself slide back in to old familiar patterns with his best friend and told himself that this weekend would be good for him. For the rest of their drive both men chatted, joked, and teased each other about how long their hair had grown. It was like no time had been spent apart and Madara felt more at home than he had in months.

Evening was close by the time they pulled in to Red Valley but there was still more than enough time for them to stop by a diner and get something for dinner. They ate at some burger joint that Hashirama had been to before, sitting on the back of the car and laughing at a guy across the road trying to tie his shoe while his girlfriend misunderstood and thought he was proposing. Afterwards they left the car in a parking garage close to where they would be staying that night and caught a cab over to the venue where the concert was to be held.

Madara couldn’t decide if he would classify the place as a bar or a nightclub. It was sort of an amalgamation of both. Either way the place had a good energy, one of the first bands already up on stage and running a mic check. After getting a couple of drinks he and Hashirama settled at one of the tables near the back wall to watch the first set.

The music was good, surprisingly, although nothing he would be hurrying to download for himself when he got home. Conversation was really only possible between songs unless they wanted to scream in each other’s ears so for the most part they both kicked back with a beer and listened.

After the first set another band took the stage and during the switch Hashirama told him it was actually an event celebrating local talent. Madara thought that was kind of nice. Small bands often had a hard time getting exposure but it seemed like there would be a good amount of groups showcased tonight, all with an equal amount of time to show off their stuff.

Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary until the second band wrapped up and handed the stage over to the third. For that brief moment of quiet Madara scanned the crowd with idle curiosity until a flash of white caught his eye and without thinking he instinctively looked back to the stage. His blood ran cold as he spotted the last possible thing he could have expected: Tobirama with a guitar, adjusting his strap and looking just as empty as ever.

“What the _fuck_ Hashirama!” he snarled, whipped his head around to glare at his friend. Hashirama gave him a helpless look.

“I tried to tell you! You kept telling me to shut up!”

“Ugh! What is he even doing here?”

“He moved out here after high school, met a few people, joined the band about three years ago. It’s been good for him, actually, to have an outlet.”

In spite of himself, Madara heard himself ask, “An outlet?” Hashirama nodded, gazing up at his brother with an incredibly sad look.

“Yeah he…he hasn’t been in a good place for a long time. His doctor keeps trying to put him on meds for depression but he won’t take them because he says they won’t help. But ever since he joined the band he’s been coping a lot better; I guess because he finally has an outlet for what’s wrong.” Hashirama glanced at him and Madara felt his heart stop at the man’s next words. “He writes all their songs about his soulmate. I don’t understand why he won’t tell me who it is if he knows and I don’t get why they can’t be together because it’s killing him, you know?”

“Oh.” There wasn’t much more Madara could say to all that. Hashirama nodded with a sad sigh.

“Not having him at home is weird but I’m glad he moved up here if it helps.”

“Did you tell him you were bringing me tonight?”

His friend shook his head but his reply was lost in the first beats from the drum across the room. They both looked over as the guitar joined in for a quick rift and then the bass player took a moment to introduce them. Madara squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as he watched Tobirama settle himself in front of one of the two microphones. Did he plan to sing? Singing wasn’t something he could have pictured Tobirama doing.

Of course, none of this was something he could have pictured Tobirama doing. Music was for people who had something to express and he’d always thought of the younger man as entirely dead inside. He had been so in their last life and he hadn’t seemed to change in this one.

It was a good thing Hashirama hadn’t had time to mention their plans to his brother, otherwise Madara was sure he would never have discovered any of the information he’d just received. Tobirama being in a band was already a big enough surprise; the fact that he wrote songs about his soulmate because he felt he needed an outlet from whatever he was feeling about their situation absolutely blew Madara’s mind. Had the younger man known his soulmate would actually be present he likely would have found a way to get out of performing and Madara would never get the look inside his head he could barely even admit that he wanted.

Next to him, Hashirama leaned back in his seat and settled in to watch the show. Madara did the same with an oddly leaden feeling in his gut. Something told him that the biggest surprise was yet to come and the thought made him nervous in a way he couldn’t pin down. He wanted to wonder why he should care about someone so cold-blooded – except it seemed as though Tobirama wasn’t quite as cold as Madara had thought.

When the first song began, it began with Tobirama alone on the guitar. He leaned forward toward the mic and Madara gripped his beer tighter as he listened to the younger man begin to sing.

 _“When, when we came home_  
_Worn to the bones_  
_I told myself, ‘this could get rough’"_

His voice was lighter than one would have expected from his usual monotonous baritone, smooth as he closed his eyes and crafted each syllable like a gift. It was almost an insult, Madara thought, that Tobirama would be so good at singing. It was just another thing that he should have been able to admire about the man when instead there was only anger and hatred between them.

_“And when, when I was off, which happened a lot  
You came to me and said, ‘that's enough’”_

A snort escaped him. Was Tobirama singing straight to him, he wondered? There had certainly been plenty of times when he’d told the younger man to fuck off because he was too much to look at, his mere presence bringing up terrible memories for Madara. And there had certainly been more than enough squabbles between them when Madara had felt the need to tell him exactly what he thought was wrong with him and how off in the head he was.

To be perfectly honest he’d never once stopped to think about how his own behavior might have affected the other man. Since he assumed him to feel nothing, he also assumed that his actions would have no adverse effects. Even if he had noticed something, Madara wondered if he would have found it within him to care at all, considering the reason behind his animosity.

_“Oh I know that this love is pain  
But we can't cut it from out these veins, no”_

Freezing in place, Madara paused with his beer halfway to his mouth. That sounded a lot as though Tobirama actually felt something for him other than returning the negativity he always gave to the younger man. But it couldn’t be.

Eye narrowing, he returned his beer to the table and listened carefully as the song entered its chorus.

 _“So I'll get the lights and you lock the doors_  
_We ain't leaving this room 'til we both feel more_  
_Don't walk away, don't roll your eyes_  
_They say love is pain. Well, darling, let's hurt tonight”_

The chorus finished with an almost howling noise, as though Tobirama could hardly hold in everything he was feeling, and Madara suddenly realized that he had stopped breathing for a few moments. He gasped in air and sat farther back in his seat, trying not to draw his companion’s attention. Although he hadn’t really wanted to be right, he thought he might just be. Did Tobirama feel something for him? Did the man without feelings actually…care for him?

For a moment he nearly laughed at the very thought, then he looked up and in to the man’s face as he sang on stage. Although Tobirama had closed his eyes, the rest of his face was more open than Madara had ever seen it before, displaying more emotions than he’d thought the other even capable of. It became clear to him in that moment that Tobirama was in pain. A lot of it. And that pain was his own fault.

Did he feel guilty about that? Madara squirmed in his seat, unsure.

 _“When, when you came home_  
_Worn to the bones_  
_I told myself, ‘This could be rough.’”_

Madara could remember quite clearly the first time they had met in this life. He had been ten years old, nearly the same age as when they had met in their previous life. Following Hashirama home from school had seemed like a great idea and he’d been enthusiastic right up until they stepped in the door and he made eye contact with Tobirama. That moment their eyes connected had been the moment he recovered his memories – memories of Izuna’s bloody death, of his own betrayal of that death by making peace with the ones who had caused it, of his attempt at repayment by building a perfect world where he could be with his brother again.

Looking back on it now, Madara could picture in perfect sordid detail the way Tobirama’s face had lit up, eyes widening and body turning as the boy took a thoughtless step towards him. It was only when he snarled and grew angry that Tobirama had closed himself off, freezing in place and assuming a blank countenance, as though he had become a wall against which for Madara to throw himself in anger. After that he had neglected to pay the boy any attention unless it was to insult him or, if they happened to somehow be in a room alone, to tell him that he would spend the rest of eternity without his soulmate for what he had done.

If Madara had to name the emotion he was feeling at the moment he supposed to closest thing to it would be regret, although it was hard to pinpoint what it was he felt regretful for. For pushing his soulmate away and causing him pain? For the loss of one half of his soul but not the loss of Tobirama in particular? He wasn’t certain.

 _“Oh, I know you feel insane_  
_Tell me something that I can explain_  
_Oh”_

He had never even taken the time to get to know who Tobirama was in this world. One look was all it had taken for him to close his eyes to the things he couldn’t handle seeing. He had, in fact, gone insane in that world where Izuna died. The loss of his brother had broken something in him which had never had the time to heal and even after reincarnating Madara still felt the wound.

There was a part of him, however, that whispered in his ear quietly, telling him that perhaps his wounds would close if only he spoke to the one he blamed for them. Soulmates were considered each other’s perfect halves for more reasons than just romance and procreation – obviously or else there would be no gay couples or people born asexual. No, soulmates had other purposes as well, such as healing each other’s emotional scars. Tobirama may have been the source of his hurts but he also likely could have done something to balm them if Madara had let him. That was just the way the bond worked.

 _“I'll get the lights and you lock the doors_  
_Tell me all of the things that you couldn't before_  
_Don't walk away, don't roll your eyes_  
_They say love is pain. Well, darling, let's hurt tonight_  
_If this love is pain then, darling, let's hurt, oh, tonight”_

Did Tobirama truly write this song with him in mind? The longer he listened the less doubt there was in his mind about its message. It would be rather hard to interpret it as anything other than a cry for Madara to return his affection, no matter how hard it was to picture that.

Uncomfortable, he glanced over at Hashirama to see if his friend had picked up anything about what was really going on. Thankfully, he appeared to simply be enjoying the music. Actually, ‘enjoying’ was probably the wrong word to use; he was listening to the music with his hands clutched to his chest and unshed tears hanging in his eyes. Overreacting was kind of his thing, after all. Madara looked back up at the stage as the music slowed and Tobirama sang the last few lines with palpable emotion.

 _“So you get the lights and I'll lock the doors_  
_Let's say all of the things that we couldn't before_  
_Won't walk away, won't roll my eyes_  
_They say love is pain. Well, darling, let's hurt tonight_  
_If this love is pain, then honey, let's love tonight”_

As the last note faded the crowd inside the venue went wild, startling Madara and reminding him that the world was bigger than just him and the two Senju brothers. It also appeared to startle Tobirama. When the singer opened his eyes he looked as though he’d forgotten where he was until now and Madara supposed that was how he’d been comfortable enough to allow his face to show what he was feeling. All emotion slowly drained away as he looked around, evidently reminding himself that he could be seen. Madara couldn’t help staring.

Had he trained the younger man to do that? Was it his fault that Tobirama felt the need to conceal what he was feeling at all times if others could see him? Hashirama had been trying to tell him since they were kids that Tobirama wasn’t as cold as he thought but Madara hadn’t wanted to listen. He had always assumed that his friend was biased because they were family. The idea that the younger might simply be hiding what he felt had never occurred to him.

Madara had a brief heart attack when he thought Tobirama had seen the two of them sitting along the back wall but it was only a false alarm. Relief made him slump in his seat and take a long pull from his forgotten beer. Beside him, Hashirama wiped his eyes and murmured to himself about how beautiful that song was and how sad he was for his brother. Madara had to admit, if that was Izuna he would be just as sad and indignant as Hashirama was about this.

The crowd was given little chance to recover as the band slid quickly in to their next song. Madara tried to tune it all out but instead he found himself putting his head down, closing his eyes, and listening intently to every word. Hashirama had been right about yet another thing, it seemed. Although Tobirama was not the lead vocals for every song in their set, each one of them centered around the theme of loss and longing for a love that would never be returned. For some reason he found it hard to listen to when instead he thought he should have felt vindicated, triumphant. Wasn’t this what he had always wanted? He’d spent a lifetime wishing for Tobirama to suffer, then he had spent a childhood wishing he would just cease to exist.

So why didn’t he feel satisfied when he discovered he had gotten his wish?

By the time Tobirama’s band finished playing Madara was nearly ready to claw his own hair out with conflicted feelings and he didn’t like it one bit. He‘d been perfectly fine with the way things were but leave it to Tobirama to send him spiraling in to confusion again.

As he watched his soulmate leave the stage Madara knew only one thing for sure: for the first time in this life, he wanted to speak with Tobirama. Not necessarily to get all buddy-buddy with him, that seemed a little far to stretch after all this time. Mostly he just wanted this confusion in his chest to go away and if a simple conversation could do that then he was willing to make that sacrifice.

Tobirama’s direction was clear as soon as he was free of the stage. Even as he sank in to the crowd his pale hair made it easy to track him, heading towards the back entrance of the venue. Hashirama tugged on Madara’s sleeve and called above the noise of the crowd that he intended to follow his brother. Madara grimaced but slipped off his seat to go with him. For all he knew the moment Tobirama found out he was here he might convince his brother to scarper, leaving him alone and lost in a foreign city.

When they stepped outside the air was cold, night having well and truly fallen while they sat inside listening to different bands. The parking lot was poorly lit so it took them a moment to spot even someone who stood out the way Tobirama did.

“Tobirama!” Hashirama scurried ahead, pouncing on his sibling for an enthusiastic hug before he’d even turned all the way around. Madara hung back and observed, trying not to be seen for as long as possible. He was a little startled to see Tobirama easily return the embrace.

“Anija? What are you doing here?”

“You told me you would be playing in the concert weeks ago! Did you think I would miss this?”

Shaking his head, Tobirama shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone cared about my music.”

“You know I always care about everything you do.” Hashirama’s voice suddenly took on a soft, soothing quality as though he were calming a skittish animal. Tobirama shifted his weight, looking abashed.

“That was unfair, you’re right. You’ve been…very supportive.” He offered his brother a smile, the first Madara had ever seen on him. “Do you need a place to stay while you’re in town? Touka’s away for a conference so I’ve got the place to myself.”

“As if I would stay anywhere else! Madara and I already left the car close by and took a cab here.”

The moment his name escaped from Hashirama’s mouth, Madara watched that rare smile disappear and Tobirama’s expression drop in to an expression that looked like a bastard combination of horror, fear, and anger.

“You brought Madara?” he asked in a whisper. Hashirama groaned in exasperation.

“Look I know you two don’t get along that well but–”

“Go home, Anija.”

“What!?”

Visibly shaken, Tobirama dug in his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, pulling out a few bills and shoving them in to his brother’s hands. “Here, have some gas money or whatever, just…take him home. Get him out of here.”

Off to the side, Madara scowled and crossed his arms, offended, but continued to observe unseen. Hashirama seemed to take the same stance.

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? We drove all the way up here to see you!”

“And I’ll bet you neglected to mention to him that it was me you were coming to see, otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten within a ten mile radius of me.” Shoving his wallet back in to his pocket, Tobirama scrubbed at his face with his hands. “You know I love you Anija but I can tell you without even seeing him that he doesn’t want to be here. Just do everyone a favor and take him home, okay? We talked at Christmas, you’re fine.”

“On the phone! You never come home for Christmas.”

“Then you can come up here next year. I left town for a reason,” Tobirama murmured. “And as long as that reason is there I can’t come home. We’ve had this conversation.”

“But you never tell me what that reason is!” Hashirama whined. His brother gave him a helpless look.

“I’m sorry Anija.”

Hashirama reached out to stop him but Tobirama turned away before the older man could catch his arm. His shoulders sagged tiredly as he continued across the parking lot like a fading ghost. They lost sight of him briefly as he slid in to a car a few rows away before the roar of the engine starting up broke the stillness of the night around them and the headlights cut through the darkness.

Madara didn’t realize where he had positioned himself until Tobirama’s car pulled around for the exit and the headlights fell directly on him. The car stopped as their eyes met through the windshield, Tobirama’s face momentarily registering shock until it quickly drained of all emotion, as blank faced as he had ever been. In return, Madara stared back with no expression of his own. To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t even sure enough of what he was feeling to be able to express it.

The moment was broken when Hashirama used Tobirama’s pause to try to approach his car, asking him to stay and talk some more. Rolling his eyes, Tobirama simply steered around them and took a roundabout route to the exit, pulling away down the road with a squeal of his tires. Hashirama took a few steps after him as though he could catch the vehicle and then slumped in dejection.

“He didn’t have to run like that.”

“I think he did,” Madara murmured, mostly to himself.

“Well I’m not going home!” Realizing he was still holding a handful of cash, Hashirama irritably stuffed it in to his jacket and fished out his cellphone. “My car is still over there and I’ve got a key; we’re staying the night whether he likes it or not!”

Madara held his tongue. On the one hand he agreed that it was probably better if Hashirama just took him home right now. It was only an hour drive, after all. But on the other hand that strange urge to speak with Tobirama had only increased, rolling over unpleasantly in his belly. He certainly wasn’t going to stop his friend from helping him accomplish his own agenda – although he should probably talk Hashirama in to giving him and his soulmate some time alone. The only problem was that he would have to explain why.

Waiting for a cab to come get them was a little awkward. Hashirama was muttering under his breath while Madara stood a little bit away from him, trying to come up with a way to explain the situation between himself and his soulmate without pissing his friend off enough to just dump him on the roadside. He felt justified in his actions but Hashirama wasn’t the most rational person when it came to his precious people. The chances of him listening long enough for Madara to explain his side of things were a little iffy so he knew he would have to talk fast to get the other to leave them alone for a conversation without making him go through everything right there in the cab.

The drive was silent until they made in nearly three quarters of the way back to where they left their bags in Hashirama’s car.

“I need to speak to Tobirama before you go barreling in there,” Madara spoke up at last. Hashirama blinked at him.

“Huh?”

“I know something about his soulmate, who it is and whatnot, but I never said anything because it wasn’t my place to tell you. And I need to talk to him about it without you blundering around and making him clam up.”

“Wha–! What do you know!?”

Madara huffed. “I just said it wasn’t my place to tell you! _He’s_ your brother, not me!”

“Oh come on! How come you know something and I don’t!”

“Ugh.”

Shaking his head, Madara turned away and looked out the window, refusing to answer further. Hashirama muttered darkly to himself but subsided with as much grace as he ever did anything with. The rest of the drive passed quietly with only the sound of the radio and the grinding of brakes that needed replacement.

The cabby dropped them off at the parking garage where they left the car so that they could retrieve their bags from it. Although she wasn’t there, Touka’s home – and thereby Tobirama’s home – was only two streets away from where they parked. It didn’t take them very long to walk there but they still weren’t really talking much and it made the walk go by slower. Madara stopped them as they were walking up the driveway.

“Go for a longer walk or something,” he grumbled. “Just let me talk to him for a bit, alright?”

“But I wanna go to bed!” Hashirama whined.

“Then get a motel! Shoo!”

His friend fretted and whined but Madara wasn’t a typically merciful person and, when it came to getting what he wanted, he was the more stubborn of the two of them usually. Completely unmoved by the sad looks being given to him, he snatched Hashirama’s bag and shoved the man’s shoulder to turn him around. After one more pathetic look Hashirama moped away, pulling out his cellphone to text his woes to Mito.

Madara dug the house keys out of the bag he had snagged and let himself inside. There were lights on and faint noises coming from somewhere across the house so he put everything down and headed in that direction. He considered making some noise to give the younger man a little warning that he was here. Obviously Tobirama wouldn’t be expecting him, of all people, to show up after telling them to just go home. But on the other hand Madara still wasn’t feeling all that charitable. He just wanted to make this churning in his chest go away and hoped that this conversation would do that. Then he could go back to the way things were, alone and hating from afar. He’d been fine with that so far and he saw nothing wrong with continuing on the same.

Carpet muffling his footsteps, Madara poked his head in to every room he passed that had a light on. He would have figured Tobirama to be the type to worry about wasting energy, not the type to turn on lights in rooms he wasn’t even using. Madara found him in the very last room at the end of the hallway, rummaging roughly through the drawers of his dresser. It was obvious right then that he and Hashirama were related: he was mumbling darkly to himself in exactly the same tone his brother had used in the cab.

For a moment, Madara simply stood in the doorway and observed the man in front of him, trying to look at him from an outsider’s perspective. If they had never met before and there weren’t such a dark secret hanging in the air between them, he might have thought Tobirama attractive. Perhaps others might have found his coloring off-putting but Madara found it sort of alluring, exotic. His body was nicely shaped and well-toned, obvious even under his clothing, and Madara had always enjoyed a man who was taller than himself. Even the strangely cat-like way he walked was pleasant to watch, which was a little odd to notice after so many years of trying not to look at him.

As he observed, Tobirama stopped moving for a moment, covering his face with his hands as though to block out the world and heaving in a slow, deep breath. Madara figured it was as good a time as any to announce himself.

“Rough night?” he asked, well aware of the heavy sarcasm in his tone.

Tobirama jolted nearly a foot off the ground, hand snapping out and grabbing something off the dresser at lightning speeds, throwing it in Madara’s direction even as he spun around. Luckily Madara had always had good reflexes and just barely managed to dodge whatever it was. A good thing too, as it made quite a heavy thud when it impacted the wall behind him.

“Shit – fucking – fuck – what the _hell_!?” One of Tobirama’s hands went to his chest, pressed against his heart. “What are you _doing_ here? I told Hashirama to take you home!”

“And neither of us listened,” Madara sneered. Tobirama’s entire face twitched in a violent manner before he visibly attempted to collect himself. He took another deep breath, closing his eyes to center himself. When they opened again he hadn’t quite achieved the same blank look he always wore but it was marred only by the dark shadow of his anger.

“Where is Hashirama?”

“I told him to take off for a while so we could talk.” Madara strolled casually in to the room a few steps, noting the way the other man seemed to brace himself a bit.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

Tobirama turned away from him to slam his dresser drawer shut and it was only then that Madara noticed he was emptying it in to a bag. By the amount of things he could see in the large duffel it looked as though the younger had already cleaned out more than one drawer before he got here.

“I think we have plenty to talk about. Like whatever the hell you’re doing with all your shit, for instance.”

“None of your business,” Tobirama snarled.

“Well I’m asking anyway.”

His soulmate yanked another drawer open with a little too much force. “I came out here to get away from you. To give you all the fucking space you wanted. Now you know how close I am you’re gonna be all cranky and claustrophobic again. So what does it fucking look like I’m doing, Madara? I’m _leaving_.”

Madara blinked, pulled up short. Tobirama had left Konoha just to make him feel more comfortable? Left his home, his family, and everything he knew just because he could tell Madara didn’t want him there? And now he was doing it again, even though they were towns apart already.

“Hashirama says you wrote all that music for me,” he mumbled, not quite sure where he was going with it but opening the topic anyway. Tobirama froze, not responding. Madara ploughed ahead. “Well, to be honest he didn’t say _me_. All he said was that you write all the songs for your band and that they’re all about your soulmate.”

“What do you want me to say?” The other man asked in a tight voice.

“I want you to tell me what the hell that’s all about.”

That, it appeared, was Tobirama’s breaking point. Madara was the one to jump this time as Tobirama slammed the drawer shut so hard it knocked several things off the top and whirled around to glare at him, abandoning all pretense at having no emotions.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? As if that wasn’t fucking obvious! You’ve got at least a few functioning brain cells in there, so don’t tell me you don’t god damn get it!” He took a step towards Madara in his anger, pointing at his chest accusingly. “Do you want me to spell it out for you? Fine! _I love you_. _I always have_. You’re my soulmate for god’s sake, of course I do! You’re the one who decided that he hated me right from the first fucking moment that we met!”

“You killed my brother!” Madara shouted, unable to hold it back. If he’d thought that would slow the other down he was wrong; Tobirama stepped closer again until they were nearly toe to toe and screamed back in his face.

“That wasn’t me!”

“Bullshit that wasn’t you! We have the same memories so don’t pull that shit.”

“My _soul_ is not my _person_. A soul is an essence, the core, the memory. A _person_ can be shaped by upbringing, environment, and experiences. That incarnation of me was brought up in war, hated from the moment he was born, and taught to kill with no remorse from the age of six! _And I am not him_!”

It felt almost as though the ground he was standing on were shaking, crumbling away from beneath his feet, but Madara refused to back down. “You still killed him.”

“Should I have let him kill me instead!?” For a moment they both stared at each other in stunned silence. When he failed to answer, Madara watched Tobirama’s entire body seem to shrink back in to itself and he realized that the other was taking his silence as a ‘yes’.

“But you never cared,” he muttered. “Even in this life you never cared.”

“Look.” Underneath the anger Tobirama look exhausted, as though he’d been running for years and wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest. “I’m sorry for what you went through in that time. I am. And if you got the impression that I never regretted my actions then I’m sorry for that too. I was a product of my upbringing and who I was taught to be. But neither of us are the same people in this life and if you can’t understand that then I don’t know how to convince you to just…just…”

He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, ending with a helpless gesture before his words trailed off and he looked away.

Strangely, Madara needed that moment of pause. The churning in his gut was settling and there was something inside him that was unwinding for perhaps the first time since halfway through his previous life, when he had watched his brother die before his eyes. Was that all he had needed, he wondered, to hear an _apology_? The very thought of it made him feel slightly ridiculous.

Coming back down to earth slowly, Madara blinked the world back in to focus to see Tobirama had turned around, showing his back. His hand reached out without thinking, hovering without touching.

“Just go home,” Tobirama finally said, voice trembling. “If Hashirama won’t take you then I’ll pay for however the hell you get there but just…please go. I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Do you really believe that we’re different people?” Madara asked faintly. Tobirama sighed.

“Do you really think I could feel nothing and still love you enough to let you go?”

Madara could think of absolutely nothing to say in response to that. He had come here thinking there wasn’t anything Tobirama could possibly say that would ever change his opinion of the man, that could ever shake his belief that he was completely and entirely right in his actions. Now he felt small and blind like he had closed his eyes and not even tried to see. And he hadn’t, had he? He’d never even tried to see things from any point of view but his own or looked for any explanation.

Unable to stop himself, Madara tilted forward until his palm brushed against his soulmate’s back. Tobirama stiffened under his touch.

“I never thought…I never considered us to be different people,” he murmured.

“Could you kill a man as you are now?” the other huffed. Madara bit his lip.

“No,” he admitted. “I could never.”

“And how many did you kill in that world?”

“Hundreds.”

Madara closed his eyes. Such a simple way to think of things but it had never occurred to him. He himself had changed, hadn’t he? There was no way he could consider himself to be the same person as he had been then and yet not for a single moment had he ever considered Tobirama to be anything but.

“You’re not him,” he whispered. The words tasted strange on his tongue. Saying it out loud released another knot inside his chest that he hadn’t even known was there and Madara wanted to hide away as he realized that he might have been the source of all his own pain this whole time.

“No shit,” Tobirama whispered back.

Before either of them had a chance to say anything more there were sounds from the direction of the front door as Hashirama cracked it open and called out to them hesitantly. Likely he’d gotten tired of wandering around and decided that they’d had enough time to themselves.

For a few moments neither of them moved, frozen in to place as though if they simply stayed where they were then nothing would change and they could simply exist in this point in time until everything had figured itself out. As Hashirama banged around kicking off his shoes Madara sighed and let his hand slowly slide down off Tobirama’s back. He very clearly saw the younger man shiver but said nothing about it, much too preoccupied with his own odd reluctance to stop touching the other.

They stepped away from each other and turned to face the door just as Hashirama came thumping down the hall and poked his head in, expression openly curious.

“So, do I get to know what’s going on yet?” He asked shamelessly. “Madara says he knows who your soulmate is. No fair, Tobirama, why can’t I know?”

“Anija,” Tobirama grumbled. “Shut up.”

“Hey!”

“No, really,” Madara added. “Shut up.”

“You’re both really mean today.” Hashirama crossed his arms with a pout and glared at them both, stubbornly setting his feet in a wordless protest. They obviously wouldn’t be granted any more alone time tonight.

Not daring to look behind him, Madara simply shrugged. He was mean to Hashirama all the time, that was just his personality, and his friend knew better than to take it personally. If he did then their friendship wouldn’t work out half as well as it had for nearly two decades now. Obviously recognizing that neither of them were willing to talk, Hashirama heaved a dramatic groan in response and changed topics.

“Why have you got so many lights on?” He asked. Madara perked an ear, having been wondering that himself. It took Tobirama a few seconds to answer and when he did he sounded horribly embarrassed.

“It makes the house less lonely without Touka here,” he murmured. Madara felt his heart clench. Were those the words of a cold-blooded killer?

“Aww, so sweet!” Hashirama cooed. Tobirama growled and Madara startled as something flew passed his head to smack in to Hashirama’s face. It was only a magazine of some sort but he hollered as though he’d been mortally wounded and the two of them began to bicker much like Madara did with his own sibling.

All events considered, Tobirama’s poor room was going to end up trashed by the end of the night. Madara looked around at all the things which had fallen to the floor or been knocked around. The magazine fluttered down to lay at Hashirama’s feet; whatever had been thrown at him upon his own arrival still sat in the hallway; he was beginning to think this had become Tobirama’s general mode of greeting. Everything which had been knocked off the dresser lay forgotten on the floor and his eyes scanned over them bemusedly.

One item caught his gaze and his eyes widened, unseen by either of the arguing brothers. It was a photo frame, a rather nice one, and if he’d had to guess who Tobirama would keep a picture of in his room he would have thought it to be one of his family members. His own face stared back at him instead. Tobirama had to have stolen the photo from Hashirama because he recognized it as having been taken at a friend’s wedding four years ago. He hadn’t seen his soulmate in five.

Feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened, he barely heard his own voice muttering, “I need to sleep.”

“Yeah me too,” Hashirama agreed easily with a wide yawn. “Hey, cool! Without Touka here we can each take a bed! I call the comfy one!” He was out of the room like a shot. Madara cocked his head at the suddenly empty doorframe.

“Which one’s the comfy one?” he wondered out loud.

“He’s taking Touka’s room,” Tobirama answered quietly from behind him. “The guest bedroom is opposite this one. The bathroom is just next to it.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Now feeling awkward as well as overwhelmed, Madara hurried out of the room to go get his bag from where it had been dropped by the front door. Hashirama fluttered by him and closed himself up in the bathroom. Knowing how long his friend always took to do whatever stupid beautifying shit he did, Madara allowed himself to walk a little slower.

He had already changed, plugged his phone in to charge, and sat twiddling his thumbs for a few minutes before Hashirama finally vacated the bathroom. It only took him a couple minutes to brush his teeth and then he was back lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. After the night he’d just gone through, how the hell was he supposed to get to sleep? His head was whirling in circles so fast he was about to get dizzy just from the inertia of it all. Not a single thing tonight had gone the way he expected it to and he hardly understood how to process any of it.

From what he assumed to be Touka’s bedroom there came the sounds of light snoring, which meant that Hashirama had neglected to close his door. Normally the sound of it would bother him, making him grumble and roll around as it kept him up, but tonight he barely noticed. It looked like he wasn’t getting to sleep soon anyway so why should he care how much noise his friend made?

So lost in his muddled thoughts was he that he barely noticed the passing of time. When he checked his phone he was exasperated to see that it was already three in the morning. Since they’d gotten home not too long after midnight he should have been asleep ages ago. He tossed and turned for another ten minutes before reluctantly giving up.

Thinking that maybe the fabled glass of warm milk would calm him down and make him sleepy, Madara slipped out of bed and padded towards the kitchen. As he stepped in to the room, however, a cold draft hit him and made him shiver. Looking around, he noticed that the kitchen door to the back porch was open, letting in the cold March air. With a frown he stepped over and peered outside.

His eyebrows lifted at seeing Tobirama, back to the house as he sat on the edge of the porch. There was a beer beside him and his fur-collared coat didn’t quite manage to hide the plaid pajama bottoms he was wearing. Madara stood in the doorway for a minute, just watching. Apparently he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping tonight, although that was no wonder. Both of them had good reason to have plenty on their minds. Trying not to think too hard about his decision, Madara headed back inside to grab his own coat and snagged a beer from the fridge on his way. Warm milk was probably just an old wives tale anyway.

In an effort to be slightly kinder with his entrance this time, he made sure to shuffle his feet and make a bit of noise as he stepped out on to the porch. Tobirama looked more than surprised to see him and then downright shocked when he settled down next to the man, looking casually out over the dark backyard.

“Can’t sleep?” Madara murmured, wincing. He sounded just as incredibly awkward as he felt. Tobirama grunted.

“No.”

“Hm.”

A painful silence settled between them for a moment, so many things hanging in the air between them and neither of them sure how to bring any of them up. Madara made it halfway through his beer and had almost entirely picked the label off before finally he gave up on finding a graceful way to say what he wanted to.

“It’s not like things are suddenly going to be all hunky-dory between us like some magical fix or something.” He didn’t look directly at the other man but in his peripheral vision he could see Tobirama looking away from him in dejection. “But…”

“But?” Instantly his soulmate’s head snapped back around to stare at him. Probably thinking himself unseen, his face wore a heartbreakingly hopeful expression that sent a tingle up the line of Madara’s back. It felt something like guilt.

“Maybe I was wrong about some things,” he admitted quietly. “Just give me some time to get my head wrapped around some of this and then maybe we could, I don’t know, talk or whatever.”

“Yeah, okay.”

After Tobirama’s whispered acquiescence they both fell silent again, each other staring out at the lingering pockets of dirty snow rather than at each other. Madara found himself taking as small sips as he possibly could, dragging out his beer for as long as possible. Something in him didn’t want to go back inside no matter how tired he was. Perhaps it was his soul, he mused, the half of a whole that had always yearned for the one who was supposed to complete him. No matter how he had filled himself with hatred and justification there had always been an emptiness inside him because of their separation, both in this life and the last.

Neither of them attempted any further conversation so when the beers ran dry there was no excuse to stay. Madara was the first to stand, heaving himself up off the edge of the porch and bidding a half-hearted goodnight to the younger man as he turned back to the house. Tobirama’s voice called after him softly, wishing him a good sleep, but he didn’t look back.

When he slid in to bed this time and laid his head down, he was fast asleep within minutes.

The next morning was filled with Hashirama’s chatter, neither one of them contributing much to the conversation, and they left Red Valley only a couple of hours after breakfast as even the infamously oblivious Hashirama noticed the tension in the air. Madara spent the ride back home listening to his friend ramble on about how much he regretted not being able to stay and listen to the rest of the concert they had bailed on. Truth be told, he himself had all but forgotten the rest of the concert even existed. All he remembered from that night was Tobirama standing on the stage with that longing expression on his face as he sang about things he thought forever out of his reach.

As it turned out, they weren’t quite so far out of reach as either of them ever expected. They started off slow after that night, of course, just an email here and there perhaps once a week. Emails were impersonal and Madara could pretend not to have received them for as long as he needed to in order to be comfortable replying. Their conversations weren’t about anything deep or personal, mostly centering on passing stories of Hashirama back and forth or inquiring about how the other’s day had gone.

It took a few months before Madara gave the other man his cell number and they began to text each other. At first he still avoided any sort of frequency in their communication. Texting felt a little more personal and sometimes he would receive one and become overwhelmed with guilt and have to call his little brother for a long conversation. Izuna, once he finally heard the whole story, had called him eighteen different kinds of idiotic.

“I’m alive now you brain-broke asshole! Are you _stupid_? He’s your soulmate! How could you–”

He’d gone on for nearly ten minutes with barely a pause for breath and Madara had listened without interrupting for once in his life, partly just happy to hear his brother’s voice as the panic subsided and partly because the fact that his brother agreed with Tobirama about this hit him sort of hard. Izuna ended his lecture by pointing out something Madara had not known, had never even suspected: in his last life, Izuna had been the one to wound his own soulmate in battle and that had been the last time they saw each other before he died. Now they lived happily together in a little house in the suburbs, the past behind them, happy as two peas in a pod. Madara had never felt more like garbage in his entire life.

Over time his texting with Tobirama grew more and more frequent – as well as more and more personal. He learned so much about the younger man that he never would have expected and each new piece of information fascinated him, drew him in more. When the final semester ended and Madara graduated university, it was Tobirama who helped him job search and ultimately helped him get an interview for his dream job.  

Before he knew it the seasons had turned and it was Christmas time again, making him wonder where the hell the year had gone. It felt like only a few weeks ago that he had finally faced his soulmate and had his entire world turned upside down. By the time his work gave him a week vacation for the holidays he was texting Tobirama every day, often for hours at a time. He found himself smiling stupidly at his phone more often than he was willing to admit to and looking forward to every message with eager anticipation.

When his phone rang three days before Christmas and Tobirama’s name came up on the caller ID, however, he froze in shock. For all the messages they had sent back and forth, not once had they ever actually spoken on the phone. It took him a moment to accept the call, raising the phone to his ear slowly.

“Hey,” he mumbled. There was a beat of nothing, then Tobirama’s voice mumbled in his ear.

“Hey.” It was amazing how just that one word sent a strange thrill all throughout his limbs, straight to the tips of his fingers and curling his toes. Madara tried not to think about it too hard as he waiting for his soulmate to say something.

“What’s up?” he asked finally.

For a long time Tobirama still said nothing. Madara could hear him fiddling with something on the other end so he could tell that the connection hadn’t dropped. Whatever it was, the other was just reluctant to say it. The longer the silence stretched the more worried he became until finally he heard Tobirama take a deep breath.

“Hashirama’s been bugging me to come home for the holidays again,” he began hesitantly.

“Okay.”

“I was just…I can stay here if it would make you more comfortable.”

Madara gripped his phone tighter. “Don’t be stupid,” he grumbled. Tobirama’s shaky inhale was only barely audible.

“Are you sure? Because it wouldn’t be any different from last year and I don’t want to push you or–”

“I said don’t be stupid. You’re fine. I’m fine. It’s all fine, alright?” Licking his lips nervously, Madara inspected his toes as though to avoid the gaze of someone who wasn’t even here as he added, “I guess it’ll be nice to see you or whatever.”

He could practically hear Tobirama’s sanity crumbling even through the phone.

Although it took a couple false starts, they eventually managed to fall in to easy conversation about nothing in particular. Madara leaned back against the bedroom wall of the apartment he had only signed the lease for a couple months ago, smiling to himself without noticing, and lost a few hours of his morning to the voice that chuckled in his ear for every bad joke he told. Izuna always said he had a terrible, dark sense of humor but Tobirama at least seemed to think he was funny.

Before they hung up the younger man asked him to keep his visit a secret, apparently hoping to surprise his family. Although the very thought of seeing him again burned just underneath the surface of his skin, Madara managed to keep his mouth shut even as he let himself in to the Senju home on Christmas Eve. Since his own family had long since moved out of town and didn’t really celebrate the season anyway, Madara had been staying with Hashirama’s family for the holidays for the last several years in a row and he was well acquainted with how bummed out all the siblings were each year that Tobirama had chosen to stay in Red Valley.

This year was no different – from their perspective at least. Madara bit the inside of his cheek every time one of them grumbled or sighed as they looked at the empty seat at the dinner table. The more the hours passed, however, the more worried he became himself when there continued to be no sign of his soulmate. Had he changed his mind after all?

As he slipped in to the cot at the foot of Hashirama’s bed that night, Madara sent Tobirama a text asking where he was. He watched his screen glow softly in the darkness, no reply coming back, and he fell asleep with a heavy chest.

“ _Hashirama wake up_!”

Madara’s eyes flew open only to slam shut again, cringing as the room flooded with light. His friend groaned at the same time he did, both of them reaching for their phones to squint at them and check the time. It was only six in the morning, so what the hell was going on?

Sitting up with some difficulty, Madara spotted the youngest Senju brother standing beside Hashirama’s bed. Kawarama’s scarred chin was quivering and his eyes were streaming tears. Panic gripped him. His friend obviously felt the same as he scrambled to the edge of his bed and took his sibling’s hands, asking what was wrong. Only when the adolescent let out a watery laugh did they notice that he was smiling through the tears.

“Come see!” he choked out. “Come see!”

Kawarama pulled on Hashirama’s arm to drag him from the bed and Madara scrambled to follow after them. They had to pause so he could drag the rest of the family in to the hallway as well and then he led them all downstairs to point them in to the living room.

Madara had to bite his lip to hold in whatever stupid gymnastics his heart was suddenly doing inside his chest without permission. Stretched out on the couch and blissfully dreaming was Tobirama, probably completely aware of the stir he would cause when he chose that spot to fall asleep. Ridiculously, he’d even stuck a shiny bow to the back of his own head as though to present himself as a gift to the whole family. Looking around, Madara realized that they were certainly taking his presence as a gift.

“It’s a Christmas _miracle_ ,” Hashirama sobbed. Madara rolled his eyes at the man’s dramatics.

Nobody made any effort to stop Itama when he hurled himself across the room and landed right on top of the sleeping form on the couch. Tobirama wheezed as he was forced awake, coughing in an effort to get some air in to his lungs. Itama sat atop his back and thumped him enthusiastically on the head repeatedly.

“You’re home! You’re home! You’re home!”

“And now I have brain damage,” Tobirama growled. “Get off!”

“You’re home for Christmas! But you said you weren’t coming!”

“That’s how surprises work, stupid. If you don’t get off of me I will suffocate!”

Rather than move as he had been asked, Itama bent down and cuddled his big brother’s head. Tobirama squirmed and grunted until finally he gave up and laid still, simply allowing the affection. Hashirama sobbed extra loud, catching his attention, and when he looked over his eyes found Madara’s. They stared at each other from across the room until Kawarama started trying to shove Itama off the couch, declaring that he had been the one to find Tobirama so he should be the one who got hugs first. After that it turned in to a wrestling match that their parents had to break up and Tobirama simply covered his head with his arms as he waited for it all to blow over.

Madara was endlessly amused to see Tobirama passed around like a teddy bear for the entire morning, subjected to endless spontaneous hugs all throughout breakfast and cuddled between three siblings as they all sat under the tree to open presents. He wanted to think it was just what the other deserved for staying away from home for so many years but then he realized that Tobirama did deserve it, just in a different way. After all the pain he had gone through, he really did deserve to be showered in love.

After the presents had all been unwrapped and people had fallen in to small groups around the room for conversation, Madara caught Tobirama’s eye across the room for perhaps the hundredth time. He cocked his head to one side as the other eyed the doorway then looked back at him, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly. When Tobirama extracted himself from Itama’s arms on the excuse of going to relieve himself, Madara waited perhaps half a minute before slipping away to follow him. He found the other in his old bedroom, the one door which had stood closed for five years but had now been left open a crack in obvious invitation. Tobirama was waiting for him with a well-hidden nervous expression.

“I got you something,” he murmured before Madara had a chance to say anything. “Didn’t think you’d want everyone to watch you open it.”

“Uhm…”

“Not that it’s anything embarrassing! But none of them know about, uh, anything. So I thought it might seem weird to them that I was buying you a gift.”

“Ah.” Madara accepted the square, neatly-wrapped package with a small smile that appeared to take away Tobirama’s higher brain functions. The younger man stared at him wordlessly as he unwrapped it and opened the box.

The first thing he pulled out was a rather lovely scarf in his favorite shade of red. His smile grew as he recalled mentioning that his current one was getting a little threadbare. Underneath the soft bundle of material he found a matching pair of mittens carefully positioned to protect a shiny brass name plate bearing the words ‘Uchiha Madara’ in fancy script. 

“Now everyone who comes in to your office will know just how big and important you are,” Tobirama said with a grin. Madara narrowed his eyes at the gift.

“Seems a little too good to be true,” he murmured. “What did you do to it?”

“Would I do something to your gift?” Tobirama asked, hand over his heart as though to plead his own innocence.

Having gotten to know him fairly well over the past year, Madara dug the nameplate out and set the box aside because yes, yes he would do something to the gift. After turning it over in his hands a few times he poked at the engraved portion until it slid to the side a little. Glancing up triumphantly, he pulled it out and turned that bit over. The back of it was engraved as well – with comic sans font that read ‘Big Head’. His triumphant look turned to exasperation.

“Really?”

“Like I said: so that everyone who comes in to your office will know just how big and important you are.” Tobirama grinned wider. Madara huffed out a reluctant laugh. He really should have seen that coming. Then he braced himself as he set the nameplate aside with the rest of his gift.

“I didn’t buy you anything,” he pointed out.

Tobirama shrugged easily. “That’s fine, I didn’t expect you to.”

“But,” Madara continued, shifting his weight, “I do have something I want to give you.”

“Huh?” His soulmate stopped grinning to blink at him in surprise; obviously he had meant it when he said he didn’t expect a gift of any sort. Of course, what Madara wanted to give him could only be classified as a gift in the most technical sense.

When he took a step closer, eliminating the distance between them, Tobirama leaned back as though he thought Madara might not have meant to do that and would want a bit more space. Shaking his head, his reached out to curl his hand behind Tobirama’s neck and gently draw him back in. The position pressed their chests together and he could hear the younger man stop breathing because of it.

They were both looking each other dead in the eye as Madara leaned closer, gazes locked until they were a mere single inch apart, then he let his eyes fall closed as he crossed that last barrier and kissed his soulmate for the very first time.

Several emotions gripped him at once but the only two things he could pay any attention to were the softness of Tobirama’s lips and the way the other trembled in his hold. Madara brought his other hand up to slide it over his partner’s hip, holding him tighter, and something deep inside him sang when hesitant fingers brushed his arms. Tobirama seemed unsure as to where to put his limbs or even what to do with his face.

Madara couldn’t care less. He pressed closer, kissing deeper, and swallowed the unidentifiable sound that dragged up the younger man’s throat. Finally those fingers closed around his arms and held tight like he was the only thing keeping them both tethered to the earth. Honestly he was a little doubtful of that. Surely they were both floating several feet off the ground if the sensations inside him were anything to go by.

By the way Tobirama kissed his inexperience was obvious and Madara wasn’t at all prepared for the way that hit him, both the incredible guilt as he instantly understood why and the visceral satisfaction that no one had touched what belonged only to him. Really he had meant this to just be a soft first kiss, an exploration, a gentle beginning that he intended to follow up with a request that they take this slowly. Yet from that first taste he found himself instantly addicted and desperately craving for more. It was like realizing that he had never truly breathed freely until this very moment and now he could hardly imagine anything less.

The hand curled around his partner’s neck slid around until he could draw a thumb across Tobirama’s face close to his too-stiff lips.

“Softer,” he murmured.

Tobirama did as he asked, trying to match the way he kept his lips pursed only slightly so that they molded to the other’s. It made a world of difference and Madara groaned at the sensation, making Tobirama tremble again as the sound left him and clutch his arms impossibly tighter. Both of them were so caught up in the moment that when Madara dragged his thumb across the younger man’s cheek a second time and felt wetness there it took every ounce of his willpower to pull away.

“Are you crying?” he murmured. Opening his eyes he saw that the other was indeed. Tobirama turned his head away, although his fingers refused to let go of Madara’s arms.

“No, shut up,” he grumbled, sniffling and ruining the effect.

“That wasn’t really supposed to be a sad moment, you know.”

“I’m not sad!” Tobirama sniffed again and looked up at him with shining eyes. It wasn’t as though he were weeping like his brother had, just a couple of small tears escaping his control. “I’m just…happy.”

“Are happy tears a _thing_ in your family? That’s three of you in one day just this morning.”

His soulmate made a disgusted noise and scrunched his face up. Madara bit his lower lip but it wasn’t enough to stop the smile from spreading across his face. He wasn’t even sure if he was laughing at Tobirama or just so overwhelmed with joy that it wouldn’t all stay inside. Either way he felt lighter than air and it was incredible.

Deciding that just this once he could be merciful, he used his hand to tilt Tobirama’s face towards his and kissed him again. Just because he could; maybe in part because it also felt good. Tobirama hummed under his affection and shifted closer, probably unconsciously, and Madara moved the hand on his hip so that it rested in the center of his lower back instead. Even just holding their bodies so close together made him feel more content than he ever had been before in his life.

Entirely lost in each other, neither of them paid any attention to the world around them until they were startled out of their moment by a loud voice screeching in the hall. Clutching tighter to each other instead of jumping away, they both turned their heads to see Itama standing in the doorway and pointing a dramatic finger in their direction.

“I found both of them, Anija!” He was yelling. “Guys! They’re kissing! Madara’s kissing Tobirama!”

“Itama!” Tobirama growled. His brother paid him no mind.

Already turning away, he ran down the hallways and thundered down the stairs, screaming his head off all the way. From a floor below they could hear Hashirama responding loudly and both of them sighed in unified exasperation.

“Well there goes any hope we might have had of keeping things quiet.” Tobirama shook his head and Madara looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“It’s not as if I had plans to keep you hidden away, you know,” he pointed out. “I’m not ashamed. Please tell me you didn’t think I would want to keep this hidden because you thought I might be ashamed.” Knowing how hesitant Tobirama had been every step of the way, afraid of making a wrong move, that seemed like a very real possibility. Just the thought of it tugged at his heart. Luckily, he got a soft huff of amusement in response.

“No, actually I thought you might wish to avoid explaining everything to my endearingly overprotective family for as long as possible.” Madara’s face dropped in to an expression of horror as his soulmate smirked at him. “Is that Hashirama I hear coming up the stairs?”

“Fuck!”

Although it took several hours, a few angry wrestling matches, and more than enough bouts of tears, in the end Madara decided that telling Hashirama everything had been entirely worth it. The other Senju siblings could glare at him all they liked but it was Christmas morning and he had his soulmate sitting by his side, hips pressed together and fingers entwined. When both Hashirama and Itama refused to leave them alone for even a moment Tobirama simply leaned over and pressed a shy kiss against Madara’s cheek, who then turned his head and caught the younger man’s lips with his own. Despite being the youngest, Kawarama dragged the other two out by the ear.

The blush on Tobirama’s face as the other’s left the room was both fierce and adorable, causing a brief internal debate as Madara tried to decide if he wanted to laugh or kiss the man again. When a chuckle bubbled up the decision was made for him but he didn’t really mind. They had all the time in the world for more kisses later.


End file.
